Before Clockwork Angel: Tatiana's Diary
by LilyLiteShipsHard
Summary: William Herondale is 12, newly cursed, and is sure Tatiana Lightwood likes him. He must find a way to make her hate him, nobody deserves the fate Ella was condemned to by him! There is a dramatic turn of events when Will finds Tatiana's diary...


Will Herondale was incredibly, impossibly, and atrociously bored. He was at the Enclave's winter party, and was hating every second of it. He'd considered and attempted to sneak into the library or to his room to read, yet Charlotte and Jem always caught him at it, so his attempts were futile. He glanced around for anyone his age he could start up a conversation with, any 12-13 year old, and was disappointed. There was Gabriel Lightwood, and his brother, who made Gabriel look as sweet as an angel... now where was their bothersome sister, Tatiana?  
He heard a giggle behind him. There she was... she fancied herself in love with him! By the Angel, Will thought, what could be worse than a 12 year old girl chasing after him. He looked at her. She was wearing a pale pink dress with frills, ribbons and god knows what else. In her hand she clutched a book bound in white leather... a diary, perhaps? Tatiana was too shallow to touch a proper book. Stupid girl.  
Will looked around. Jem was trying to have a conversation with Gabriel, but anyone could see that it was taking Jem a lot of effort to not punch Gabriel in the face. Will grinned. Dear Gabriel Lightwood, also known as idiot. Henry was brandishing a new invention, the Phosphor, he called it. He had been attempting to perfect it for years now, or so he was told. Charlotte was talking to her aunt Callida, who had prepositioned him once...  
Will was so lost in thought that he bumped into Jessamine.  
"By the Angel, Will! Watch where you're going!" scowled Jessamine, her beautiful face distorted with discontent. "You're even worse than Henry!"  
"Jessamine, you really oughtn't to scowl like that. You look like the spitting image of a mongrel who swallowed a lemon... or two... or three...-"  
Will would have continued mocking her, for he really didn't have to pretend to like her, but Jessamine shrieked "Charlotte" in her soprano voice, hurting Will's ear in the process, and Charlotte ran to them.  
"What happened, Jessamine! Why are you screaming like that!"  
"Will called me a dog!"  
Charlotte raised one eyebrow at him.  
"She was being a pain in the-"  
"Will! There you are!"  
Will turned, surprised, and saw Jem rushing over to them. Jem, he thought, was a lifesaver.  
"I wanted to show you something..." Jem said carefully. "Come with me."  
Jem led Will to the balcony connected to the Enclave's ballroom, and turned to face him.  
"Honestly, Will! I can't function as your common sense! You know there will be a day you will have to manage without me," he hissed. "I know it's only Jessamine, but it could be anyone next time!"  
Will stared at the marble floor stubbornly, not acknowledging the part about losing Jem. "Jessamine deserves it. She's a conceited, spoilt brat."  
Jem made a frustrated noise in from throat. "Really, Will! You have the talent to drive saints to madness!"  
Will regarded him coolly. "But I have never managed to revoke a stronger action from you than mild frustration."  
"That is it. I cannot continue this conversation. I'm going inside."  
Jem stalked out if the balcony, Will looking at him with an expression of guilt. If only, he thought, and silently cursed a blue demon.  
He'd also have to do something about Tatiana, he thought. As stupid as she was, he couldn't let anyone die like that. An image of his sister Ella lying dead, her features unrecognizable, flashed through his head, and he ran inside to the ballroom, and sat down on a chaise longue, panting heavily, his head in his hands.  
Henry was in the center of the room, proudly brandishing his invention. Will eyed it warily. He'd only been at the institute for six months, but he'd learned first-hand about Henry's reputation for crazy inventions that went haywire, or blew up. Sometimes they were even meant to blow up.  
"I've got it! I've made it! I've completed it!" Henry shouted proudly.  
"Henry, nobody knows what on earth you're on about..." Benedict Lightwood said in a chagrined tone.  
"I'll demonstrate! It should let out a very bright flare of witchlight!"  
And before anyone could argue, Henry pressed the button. There was a blinding flare of light, and then darkness.  
Everyone started screaming.  
"I can't see!"  
"It's so dark!"  
Stating the obvious, Will thought dryly. Then he couldn't resist.  
"You all are shadowhunters! It's called a witchlight!" He burst out, walking to the area of commotion. He pulled out his witchlight, (he carried one everywhere) and lifted it above his head, so the light was available to everyone. Jem, showing a startling presence of mind, had run to the training room, appropriately not far from the ballroom, and had asked Thomas for a basket of witchlights, and started handing them out.  
Will looked around. The lights would turn on in a while, he knew Henry could fix that much. In the meantime, someone had placed witchlights on the stage, so the performances could go on. He slunk back to the chaise longue he was sitting on, and felt something hard as he sat down. He got up and saw a white, leather-bound book. Tatiana's diary!  
He opened it... and was shocked still. She'd written Tatiana Herondale all over it. She'd written poems about him. She'd rhymed William with a million... when suddenly a cruel, cold idea started forming in his head, an idea that would make Tatiana hate him... just what he needed.  
He looked at the stage. Elise Penhallow was banging away on the spinet. He crept up slowly towards the stage. Elise was reaching the end of her piece.  
He took one trembling step closer, then another...  
Elise had finished her piece, and people were half-heartedly applauding her. She had a grin on her face as she stepped down from the elevated platform.  
Will shoved her aside, gaining many shocked looks, and mounted the stage. Charlotte shot him a confused look, and Jem, in the audience, was giving him a look of panic. Will could read his parabatai's face.  
Don't do it, Will, it seemed to plead.  
For a moment, Will almost consented. Then he clenched his fists and cleared his throat loudly.  
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," he said with a smirk. "I will be reading you a short passage from... a dumb 12 year old girl's diary."  
Slowly, an expression that could only be described as horror started crossing Tatiana Lightwood's face.  
"Dear, sweet, William," he said in a pathetic falsetto voice. "You are one in a million,  
Your eyes like stars,  
So near,  
Yet so far-"  
He was cut short by a loud thumping beat. He turned around and saw Gabriel Lightwood barreling towards him, one fist raised in a punch. Will glared. He'd heard Gabriel call him "very nearly a mundane" behind his back, and this was the last straw. Just when Gabriel's fist was about to connect with Will, he lashed out with his hand, grabbing Gabriel's wrist. He used the energy build up to knock Gabriel to the floor, and twisted his arm behind his back. There was a sickening *snap* sound, and Gabriel screamed and writhed in pain. Charlotte shot Will a horrified and disgusted look, then turned her attention towards Gabriel.  
And Jem's face.  
He couldn't take it anymore. He ran off the stage like the chicken he was, and ran out of the ballroom, his footsteps echoing.


End file.
